


Encounters

by anotherbird



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Archaeologist!Connor, Bisexual Hank Anderson, Cop!North, Drunk Sex, Hank and North as friends, Happy Ending, Lawyer!Josh, M/M, Miscommunication, Nurse!Markus, One Night Stands, One Shot, Pining, Shop Owner!Simon, there are no androids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 14:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15951458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherbird/pseuds/anotherbird
Summary: Connor has lost his dream job, his boyfriend, his home and has really nothing else to lose in this godforsaken city. Well, his dignity, but who cares about that nowadays. And what could go wrong with having a one night stand? He would never see him again anyway. Especially not at his new job at the coffee shop across the street of a police station.- An unnecessary coffee shop AU.





	Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> Initially I just wanted to overcome my writer's block for my current series, but it got far longer originally intended. 
> 
> Warning: there is a sex scene in the first third, but it's quiet short and not really explicit. 
> 
> Another warning: not beta'd and I'm not a native speaker, but I try hard to make as few mistakes as possible. 
> 
> Edit: corrected some mistakes and put in Connor's age and Markus' profession, which both somehow existed in my head, but didn't make it into the story.

Deep inside of him, Connor had known it was a stupid idea. But lately everything seemed to fall into that category - especially all his life choices since choosing ancient eastern archaeology over law school, if you'd ask his parents.

So what would one more stupid idea change anyway? Tomorrow he could start his new mission of getting his life back together again, today he would just get drunk enough to have a good time. Maybe he'd even get laid.

Well, at least the drunk part had worked out pretty well and Traci, on whose couch he was crashing at the moment, had been a great help with that- until her girlfriend had called with unforeseeable family issues and she had to leave, before they could even exit her apartment.

Now - about an hour later - Connor’s phone vibrated with bad news.

_Sorry, won’t make it back tonight. Don't wait up._

And there went his plan right out off the window.

He knew that he just should call it quits, change into comfortable clothes to fall asleep watching TV, but against his better judgement and basic common sense he stood up and left the apartment.

 

***

 

Connor had no idea, what he was even looking for and after opening the door to the fifth bar - apparently owned by someone called Jimmy - he just gave up searching. Every bar had been too loud, too quiet, too crowded, too hip, too big - Connor was just making poor excuses at this point. He would just stay here, buy one drink and then get back to his couch, so he could start his first day at his new job without a headache.

The bar seemed shady at best. It wasn't really crowded, no one even cared, when he came in, as most customers watched the TV screen showing a basketball game.

The whole place seemed to scream _stupid idea_ at him.

Determined to ignore this, Connor walked over to the bar and sat on one of the stools next to a grumpy looking man with silvery hair. The man looked more like inventory than a customer. Connor ordered a beer, eyes fixed on the back of the man's head.

“Do you have anything to say or do just want to keep staring at me?” The man finally grunted at him, without turning around.

Connor bit his lip.

“I didn't mean to..”

He stopped, when the stranger finally looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. The man looked rugged and tired, worn out and unkempt, but the blue eyes were piercing, a little amused even and the face handsome under the shaggy beard.

Maybe this could become a good evening after all.

Connor knew that was the alcohol talking. The alcohol and his weakness for men twenty years his senior, that Traci liked to make fun of. As if men his age would've been any better. Oliver had been his age and turned out to be a giant asshole nevertheless.

With his luck the man was straight anyway, so the stakes weren't really that high.

“What's a fancy kid like you doing here?” The man asked, voice dripping with thinly veiled mockery.

The barkeeper chuckled.

“I've been bailed on.”

“Girlfriend trouble?”

“Kind of.” Connor took a sip from his beer.

“Sorry, is it complicated?” He didn't sound sorry at all.

“I don’t know. Ask her. She's the one with the girlfriend.” Connor watched his reaction closely, searched for any sign of irritation or even hostility.

“Huh.” The man just said rather unimpressed and emptied the glass of golden liquor in front of him. Both of his hands didn't show any sign of a wedding ring.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

That earned Connor a surprised raised pair of eyebrows.

“Why?”

“I'm a thirty-one-year-old, who's been bailed on, jobless and sleeping on a couch. Humor me.”

“I’m really the worst person to humor anybody, but won't say no to another round.” The man turned towards the barkeeper. “Hear that, Jim? Kid’s buying me a drink. Make it double.”

“Seems you're one lucky bastard tonight.” The barkeeper responded.

The man answered with a low chuckle, that made Connor smile.

“Okay, spill it out. You bought me a drink, I’ll listen two five minutes of your whining.”

“Who says I’m whining?”

“You're here, aren't you?”

Connor thought about it for a second, then shrugged and gave in.

“I quit my job in Chicago to move here last year for a relationship.”

“Girlfriend dumped you?”

Connor took a sip of his beer und ignored the question at first.

“Apparently there aren't a lot of jobs for archaeologists in Detroit.”

“No shit.” There was an amused twitch at the man’s lips - a reaction Connor knew all too well.

“My boyfriend was working in development at CyberLife, pretty well paid. And because he can't deal with me being jobless, he can't help himself, but has to sleep with his lawyer.”

Again, no negative reaction. No flinching or bringing space between them, instead a large hand reached over and squeezed his shoulder in sympathy.

“Guy sounds like an asshole.”

“He sure does.” The barkeeper agreed.

“No argument there.” Connor raised his hands as if in defeat. 

“Don’t go running after him. Isn't worth it.”

“I know.” Connor searched the man’s eyes and smiled. In fact Connor had left Oliver as soon as he found out about his infidelity and not considered giving him another chance for a second - even if his parents wanted him to. “I’m over it, but that doesn't give me a job to pay rent with.”

“And here you are buying some dirty old man a drink.”

“Guess I am.” Holding the man's gaze, he made their legs touch slightly, light enough to play it down as an accident, but hard enough to be noticed.

The man’s eyes widened a little, there was disbelief and wariness, put he didn't pull away.

“Get us another round, Jim.”

From that on, the conversation trailed somewhere else. Jim and the man bitching about the game and people as a whole and about Connor’s ex and people like him. Somehow it even made Connor forget about the joke his life had become. Their legs kept touching and slowly Connor tried to raise the bar. Squeezing his arm in a discussion, patting his back after a joke, until he carefully put a hand on his thigh. Nothing one could interpret as just another thing drinking buddies did. The man inhaled visibly and downed his drink in a sudden and single gulp.

“I think, I’ll head home now.” Connor stood up with a smile and prayed the man could take a hint.

“Good call.” The man cleared his throat and stood up a little too fast.

_Thank God._

 

When the door fell shut behind them, Connor didn't waste another second.

Grabbing him by the collar, he pulled the man in for a kiss. Now he would either get his teeth punched in or…

With a defeated muffled groan he got kissed back and Connor felt relief flooding through him. A moment later his back met the cold wall of the bar, a large hand grabbed his ass and Connor buried his fingers in thick hair. The kiss was uncoordinated and messy, impatient. A lot of tongue and teeth, imperfectly perfect.

“Please, tell me you live alone.” Connor finally managed to bring out between kisses.

“You bet.”

 

They took one of those driverless taxis to the man’s home, making out in the backseat like horny teenagers, until the driving AI threatened to throw them out, making them part for a few breathtaking seconds.

They didn't lose much time as soon as they were inside the man's house, leaving a trail of clothes behind them as they headed for the bedroom. As soon as the door closed behind them, leaving a huge whining dog behind, the man pinned him against the door. A few moments he just looked at Connor in the almost darkness, the only light seeping through the windows from a street lantern.

“God, you're beautiful.”

Connor’s heart beat so hard against his ribcage, it was almost painful. Some part of his brain, unfazed by alcohol and horniness, reminded him, why he had stopped doing one night stands altogether. How he always got attached and ended up with his heart broken.

Then the man got down to his knees to suck his cock and every sane thought immediately turned to dust, as Connor let his head fell back against the door, while grabbing a fistful of hair.

 

The sex was messy and clumsy and far too personal. There was not a single fiber of his being that didn't want this and when the man was lying on his back, panting,  holding his hips, while Connor ran hands through coarse hair over a faded tattoo on his chest and rode him, he thanked himself for bringing a condom.

Only later, when Connor fell asleep with a huge arm around him, slight snoring an unfamiliar background noise, he realized he never even asked his name.

  


***

 

Connor woke to the sound of his phone ringing. It felt as if someone was drilling right through his skull into his brain. There was it, the reason he usually stopped drinking after two beers and avoided any liquor. Headaches. With an almost painful sound he forced his eyes to open, only to immediately lock eyes with someone else.

Right.

He wasn’t at home. For a while no one said word, they just stared at each other in disbelief and the shared pain of a hangover, Connor’s phone still ringing in the background.

“Don’t you wanna get that?” The man - had they even exchanged names, Connor couldn’t remember - nodded towards his phone, that was still in the back pocket of his jeans, somewhere on the bedroom floor.  

For a moment Connor was embarrassed to stand up, naked as he was, but ultimately decided that modesty was ridiculous in front of someone, who had seen most of his body up close just hours ago - although not in this horrible morning light. He picked up his pants on the way and put them on awkwardly. His jeans he found in front of the dresser on the floor, phone buzzing like an angry bee. The display showed Traci’s name.

“Hey.” He answered. His voice sounded a little hoarse and worn out.

“Oh good, you're alive. I was about to call the cops.” She wasn't amused at all. “Where the hell are you? Did you even come home last night?”

Connor’s eyes wandered towards the man, who was still sitting in his bed, looking lost.

“Can I call you back?”

“Oh my God. You got laid, didn't you?”

“Bye, Traci.” He hanged up on her. “Sorry.” Connor smiled apologetically at the man, who shrugged it off.

 

“So … this is your house?” _Of course it's his house. Idiot._

“We don’t have to do this.” The man’s voice sounded tired. Not hurt or regretful - just immensely tired.

“Do what?”

“You don't have to pretend to care about me, you know. You won't hurt my feelings or anything.”  

It felt like a punch in the gut.

Just then Connor's eyes fell on the time on his phone display.

“Oh no.” He put his jeans on in a hurry, already looking for his shirt.

“Everything alright?” The man handed him his glasses from the nightstand.

“My new job is starting today. And if I don't hurry, I’m gonna be late.”

“Like I said. Don't worry about me, kid.”

Connor took the glasses and knelt on the bed in front of him. Before he could reconsider it, he took the man's face in his hands and kissed him, slow and deep, tasting like booze and morning breath.

“Thank you.” He finally brought out and hurried to find his shirt.

  


***

 

It was a saturday. Simon had warned Connor about saturdays. The cafe was unusually crowded, people were either in a hurry or took way too much time for their order, annoying everybody around them. There were families taking a break, couples on a date and the daily workaholics. And - as usual - cops from the station across the street fleeing their work. It felt like everybody in Detroit decided to come to Jericho at once.

 

People also seemed to arrive in waves. They were either building a queue throughout the whole place or didn’t show up at all, leaving Simon and Connor with little to do but cleaning up and talking. It was in one of those rare breaks, when the door opened and a familiar face strolled in. North. Being friends with Simon’s boyfriend Markus she quite often came in at the beginning of her shift at the Police Station. Or this was what Simon had told him. Connor himself hadn’t spoken to her yet in his week of working here. She was intimidating.

 

Behind her, not wearing a uniform like her, trotted a man in his fifties. He had _overworked lonely cop_ written over him like a neon sign and didn’t look too overwhelmed by the small cafe. A very and almost too familiar man. Connor tried not to stare at him.

“Should’ve warned me that it’s one of those hipster places.” Connor heard him grunt.

“‘Hipster’? How old are you again?” North quipped back at him.

“Very funny.”

 

The pair arrived at the counter, where Simon greeted them with a warm smile.  

“My favorite customer.”

“Liar.” North sounded harsh, but her face lit up anyway.

 

She spotted Connor, who tried his best to become invisible by diffusing with the coffee machine.

“Hey, new guy! Stop hiding.” And here it was.

The man visibly paled, when he finally spotted him.

“So what’s your name?” North's word sounded less like a normal question, but more like some form of interrogation. 

“Connor.” His eyes jumped to her colleague again.

“How’d you end up here?”

“North.” Simon sighed. “Leave him alone.”

“What? No one works here if they don’t have to and this whole city is a pisshole.”

“I just needed a job.” Connor knew he sounded defensive. At least, it was true. He had needed a job. He could see the screws in the man's head working, putting together the information piece by piece.

“Yeah, that’s what Markus told me, too. But stay mysterious if you want.” She shrugged. “The grumpy old man here is Lieutenant Hank Anderson.” She gave a mocking salute and earned an eye roll by Anderson.    

So there was the name, Connor hadn't known. _Hank Anderson._

 

“So, Si, what I wanted to ask”, North looked serious, when she finally turned her attention back on Simon, leaning over the counter, ready to share secrets. “Is it official business policy to only let twinks work here? Do you advertise it like that?”

Simon fake laughed. The older cop snickered, until he accidently met Connor’s eyes and stopped himself immediately.   

 

***

 

The second time Hank Anderson came in was a tuesday. It was almost noon, a classic november day, grey and uncomfortable, not a single ray of sunshine visible the whole day and now it had even started to rain. Connor was surprised to see the ragged lieutenant coming in. Last time he hadn’t looked really fond of the place and not really fond of seeing Connor again either.

He looked awfully tired with dark circles under bloodshot eyes. When he stopped in front of the counter, Connor noticed the faint smell of alcohol.

“God, I hate this shitty weather.” He said instead of a greeting and shook his head. When he realized he was talking to Connor, he blushed slightly and seemed to search for words. Connor squirmed a little.

“Sorry, Connor, isn’t it?”

Connor smiled a little. “Yes. What can I get you today, Lieutenant Anderson?” He tried to sound polite, as if this whole situation didn't make him highly uncomfortable. As if he wouldn't just be having a serious sex flashback. Suddenly his throat felt far too dry.

“Fuck this. I’m not at work and you know, it would be ridiculous. I’m Hank.” He offered him his hand across the counter. Connor took it with the small grin. His handshake was firm and warm. He liked those hands, they were strong and...

_Don’t even think about it._

“Nice to meet you, Hank. I’m Connor.”

Both of them fought against a laugh.

“So, what’s your dog’s name?” Connor asked, while he made Hank’s order ready. Instead of an answer he got an irritated look.

“I… just… I saw him at your house and ..., I’m not…” _a stalker._ “I like dogs.” _Idiot._

Hank frowned, but seemed amused. “Sumo. His name is Sumo.”

 

“Sorry, about the thing… about what North said.”

“The twink thing?”

Hank nodded.

“Well, she’s not that wrong. Although I would consider myself more of a twunk.”

Hank gave him an unbelieving look.

“Yeah.” Hank took the coffee from his Hand. “And I'm the fucking queen of England.”

  


***

 

The third time he saw Hank Anderson in the shop was almost at closing hour on a friday and Connor had the evening shift. He had already cleaned the coffee machine and the only customers were three college students discussing classes. When the door opened and Hank came in, Connor immediately noticed the difference. The walk, the way he held himself, his whole demeanour. He was at least a little drunk. It reminded him of the night they first met.

“So you're really an archaeologist? Digging things up and stuff?” That was an interesting way of starting the conversation.

“More working in museums and digging through archives, but yes.”

“And what are you doing, when you're not selling coffee or picking up sad old men in shady bars?”

“About that…” Connor started chewing on his thumb nail, but stopped himself. Bad habit. He concentrated on the coffee machine instead. He would have to clean this all up again.

“You regret it?”

“No.” Connor was quick to say. “I don't usually do that.”

“Old men?”

“Picking up strangers.”

There was a sudden change in Hank's demeanor. As if a wall had appeared between them.

“Then what? A pity fuck?”

“No!” Connor's protest was maybe a little too loud, making the other guests turn their heads around and seemed to take Hank by surprise.

“Then why would you pick me up of all people?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? The last time someone like you showed any interest in someone like me was twenty years ago. And since my divorce, I haven't been with anyone.”

_It could have been anyone._

Connor tried not to feel hurt. He knew it was a one night stand. That he had no right to feel hurt or let down. God, he was so bad at that, he grew so easily attached to people, it was pathetic. For Hank it had obviously just been a convenient lay and why wouldn't it?

“You weren't a pity fuck.” Connor insisted again. “I had a bad day and I'm told, I have an alarming preference for straight-passing men older than me. So I am happy, you didn't punch me in the face.”

“Did that happen before?”

“Maybe once or twice.”

Hank looked almost impressed.

“So, no hard feelings?”

Hank seemed to hesitate, expression impossible to read, but finally he nodded.

“No hard feelings.” He agreed and took his order.

  


***

 

After that, Hank came in once a day, picked up a coffee and some brownies or a bagel, chatted with Connor and every time he left, it was a little harder to let him go.

After three weeks of working in Simon's little coffee shop and speaking to North and her coworkers he had learned a lot of things about _Hank Anderson._

Connor always asked innocent questions, when the cops came in from the precinct and he soon got a decent overview over the people working there and about _Hank Anderson_ in particular. Maybe that wasn't exactly the right tactic to get over him.

Learning what kind of person he was.

He had been a successful cop at the drug department. Star pupil. Shining example.

He had been married, but divorced his wife five years ago.

He still drove a car manually.

He lost his son in a car accident.

He was a little old fashioned.

He hated almost everyone but North.

It felt like filling a book.

 

“You should just ask her out.”

Hank’s voice sounded through the shop and Connor felt his heart raise a beat.

“I can't.” As usual, North followed right behind him.

“Why not? You like her, don't you?”

“That's not the point. She's got a kid. Kids don't like me.”

“Kids are scared of you. That's a difference.”

“She's still on good terms with her ex husband. Maybe she's not into women.”

“You won't know until you try. She doesn't have to be either gay or straight, you know.”

“I fucking know that. I don't need a lecture on that from you of all people.”

At that Hank looked at Connor just for  split second, as if they were sharing an inside joke. The moment passed too quickly and far too soon both of them were gone again.

 

***

 

Markus was hanging around at the shop today. Connor hadn't met him that often before, although he only got his job, because Traci was working at the community centre with him. Markus was the type of person you just had to have crush on. He was immensely beautiful, even after having spend a 24 hour shift as a nurse at the hospital. Additionally he was incredibly charming and spent a lot of his scarce free time at the community center, organising political events or helping LGBTIQ- kids. And of course he played the piano and he painted. Sometimes it felt as if he was a perfect human being out of a 3D printer. According to Simon and North he was still an ordinary human disaster and hopelessly awkward at flirting. Now he was slouching in one of the large armchairs, half asleep with the largest cup of caramel macchiato in front of him anyone could order. He would spend most of the day in the chair - sometimes disappearing in the storage room with Simon for obvious reasons. Around noon North joined him and turned into liquid on another chair, wearing an oversized DPD hoodie. She seemed a lot less frightening out of her usual uniform.

“How was your date?” Markus asked after a while and Connor listened up. North had been talking a lot about this primary school teacher named Kara, who lived in her street and Connor of course wasn't curious at all.

“She's so tiny and pretty, I think I got diabetes from it.”

Without being asked to, Connor made her usual order and brought it over, even earned a smile from her.

“Next week's the opening of the exhibition at the center. Why don't you bring her?”

“Because I don't want you guys hovering around her all night.”

Soon after that, Josh joined them - as usual in a beautiful blue suit and too many files under his arm - because jurisdiction couldn't say paper goodbye apparently. There was the usual banter between him and North, about how he as a defense attorney got the people free, North arrested, but as always there wasn't much venom behind it. Connor brought him a teapot full of earl grey.

When Traci walked in, too, blue hair in a ponytail, Connor began to wonder if Jericho had just been declared part of the community center. She waved at the rest of the crew, before heading over to Connor to greet him with a hug.

As usual Hank came in around late afternoon. He stopped to chat with North, introduced himself to Markus and Josh, before heading over to the counter.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Connor felt Traci’s eyes on him, but tried not to be irritated by it. “The usual?”

“You know me, kid.” Hank smiled tiredly and scratched his beard. “How’s the job search going? Dug anything up?”

That was a horrible pun and Connor wished he wouldn't laugh like an idiot about it anyway.

“Not really, no. Maybe I'll try volunteering at the Institute of Arts. They have a department for ancient near eastern art.”

He handed Hank his usual order.

“Fingers are crossed.”

“Thanks.”

_Don't smile like an idiot._

He did, of course, smile like an idiot, until Hank was out the door again and Traci’s voice punched him back into reality.

“You're so screwed.” She leaned over the counter with a dirty grin. “That's the guy, isn't it?”

“What guy?” Simon made it sound innocent, as if he wasn't really curious.

“Yeah, what guy?” North called far too loud over to them. Josh rolled his eyes, while Markus fought down a big grin.

“Thanks a lot.” Connor gave Traci a death glare that didn't seem to impress her at all.

“So is he or isn't he?”

“He is.” Connor brought out through gritted teeth.

“What guy?” Simon asked again, curiosity now barely hidden.

“At my first day here, I was late.” Connor still felt a sting of guilt about that.

“I remember.”

“I didn't miss the bus.”

“I know. You smelled like a brewery.”

Connor felt his face turn hot und red.

“I usually stay at Traci’s. That time I didn't. Please don't make me say it.”

“Are you kidding me?” North almost jumped out of her chair. “You slept with Hank? That secretive son of a bitch.”

  
  


***

 

The next time Hank came in was - again - before closing time. Completely sober, a determined look in his eyes.

“I have hard feelings.” He blurted out instead of a greeting, a little too loud. He didn't seem to care for the fact, that Markus and Josh were hanging around in one of the corners or Simon putting out and collecting the candles on the tables .

“What?” Was everything Connor brought out.

“I said, that there wouldn't be hard feelings. But I do. I have hard feelings.” He frowned. “Wait, that sounds very wrong.”

“Maybe we should go outside?”

Just with Connor’s question Hank seemed to realise that there were indeed more people hanging around the shop. That every head was turned towards him. Solemnly, he followed Connor outside.

Snow was falling in big fluffy flames to the floor, got caught in Hank's hair and shoulders and eyelashes. Steeling himself against the cold air without a jacket, Connor put his arms around himself.

Suddenly Hank didn't seem so fond of talking anymore, paced up and down, avoiding to look at Connor at all costs.

“Hank?”

That made him stop. Obviously frustrated he ran his fingers through his hair.

“That was a stupid idea. I’m far too old for shit like this.” Hank massaged the root of his nose and straightened his shoulders. “Okay.” Hank took a deep breath. His eyes seemed to glow a little in the light of the streetlights. “We said, no hard feelings. And… I know, this is pathetic, because I'm a sad old lonely man, who falls for the first person, who shows any interest in him. Shit.”

Connor felt warm, despite the cold weather. His heart felt loud and deafening in his own ears.

“I don’t know why I'm even telling you this. I'm sorry, I should go.”

Before he could make a single step, Connor stopped him, held his arm in a steel grip.

“Hank, wait.” Talking was really hard all of a sudden. All the words seemed stupid and sappy. “I usually don't do one night stands.” He let go of Hank's arm and put his hand on his chest instead, took a moment to feel the rising and falling with every breath, remembered how it felt without all the layers of clothing under his fingertips.  “Because I get attached. So…” He chewed on his bottom lip and looked up at Hank. “I guess, I have hard feelings, too.”

A heartbeat later large hands held his head, warm lips captured his own. Immediately Connor put his arms around Hank's back, holding onto his shoulders, so his knees wouldn't give out right under him.

“It was very hard not to do this every time I bought that fucking coffee.” Hank murmured, when they finally parted.

“Apropos coffee…” Connor nodded towards the shop, where probably everybody and their mothers had just witnessed them. This wouldn't be awkward at all, when he came back in.

“I need to clean up. Why don't I come over after my shift? Maybe you can introduce me to your dog.”

Hank smiled almost shy.

“Sounds good.”

“Good."

**Author's Note:**

> The hardest part - funny enough - for me was writing in Connor’s POV. For my series, I preferred writing Hank and not only writing Connor, but also writing him as human was fun, but I guess it came out a little OOC. I would be happy to hear, what you think about this :) there a still plenty of headcanons about every character and their backgrounds that didn't fit in here since it was Connor’s POV. I thought about this way too much. 
> 
> If bored, you can talk to me at tumblr on <http://the-other-bird.tumblr.com>


End file.
